A Flame in Two Cupped Hands
by winter machine
Summary: A shameless attempt at rewriting history after Addison's revelations in "God Bless the Child."  Very A/U and utterly self-indulgent; posted in case anyone else needs mindlessly comforting fic-juju as much as I do after that episode.  Mark/Addison.


**A/N: **Totally shameless attempt at self-soothing after Addison's revelations in the last episode. Deeply A/U, probably more than a little ridiculous, and I'm not as embarrassed as I should be to say I'm tempted to do more.

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><p><strong>A Flame in Two Cupped Hands<strong>

Life is really just a string of choices, one after the other, like beads on a necklace.

_Shut up!_

_You're scaring me._

There's a knot in between each, holding her decisions in place.

_You're a good guy._

_Are we breaking up?_

_Sam..._

_Addison._

"Sam - no -"

"Ad - wake up, Addie. Wake up."

She stirs under his hands, eyes fluttering open.

"Mark? What-"

"You were talking in your sleep. You okay?"

"I was - dreaming," she mumbles, scooting closer to him. "But it felt so real."

"What kind of a dream?" He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, runs his thumb soothingly over her cheekbone.

"The bad kind. I was - " she breaks off, shuddering.

"You were what?" When she doesn't answer he drops his hand to her arm, squeezing reassuringly. "If you tell me about it, it won't be scary anymore."

She smiles. "Now where have I heard that before..."

"And it always works for her, doesn't it?"

She nods. "The dream - Sam was there."

"Sam," she can see his furrowed brow in the semi-darkness. "Sam... Bennett? Med school Sam?" At her nod he says "I haven't heard you mention him in ages. Keep going," he probes gently.

"I was living in L.A."

"You hate L.A."

"I know that! I said it was a _bad_ dream. Sam and Naomi were divorced and I was living with Sam and you and Ella weren't there and I was alone and - " Tears well up in her eyes, in her throat.

"Hey, it was just a dream. Probably too many of Ella's chocolate chip monstrosities." Mark pulls her into his arms and she feels her heart slow immediately as she nestles closer. "Better?" he asks.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"So, in the dream you were living with Sam, as in _living_ with him?"

She nods and he rubs her back.

"You definitely don't have to worry about that. Could never happen. Naomi would kill you first. And remember, she used to beat Derek at arm-wrestling, so as much as I love you, I'm not sure that's a fight you'd win..."

Addison laughs into his neck, her tears drying before they can fall.

"So that's not scary. Anything else?"

"You weren't there," she says finally.

"Well, that's just the most ridiculous part of all." He kisses the top of her head. "Because even if you did go to L.A. - which you never would - but even if you did, I would follow you. I'd be there too, and we'd all be together in the relentlessly annoying sunshine."

He would. She knows he would.

"Thank you," she says, tipping her head up to kiss his jaw. "You were right - not scary anymore. Of course, now I'm wide awake."

His chuckle rumbles against her. "You want me to help tire you out?"

She shifts within his arms as his lips roam around on her neck, scruffy chin tickling her shoulder. "Mm. Do we have time?"

He balances on one arm to turn the bedside clock toward him. "Maybe twenty minutes before the first drink of water."

"I can work with that."

A sharp knock a moment later makes them jump apart. Addison rolls back toward her side of the bed. So much for twenty minutes.

"It's me," the little voice calls through the door. "Can I come in?"

Addison watches with a smile as Mark smothers a laugh in his pillow.

"Of course, El, come on in," he says patiently.

The door pushes open and a small bright head quickly follows. "I knocked!" Ella declares proudly.

"That was very polite, sweetie," Addison praises and Ella beams, then seems to remember why she's there and lets her features fall into a pout. Mark takes her hand as she approaches his side of the bed.

"What's wrong, kiddo?"

"I had a bad dream."

"Those are going around tonight."

Ella furrows a miniature version of Addison's own brow. "What?"

Mark shook his head. "Never mind. You want to tell us about the dream?"

Ella shakes her head vigorously. "It was scary."

Addison props herself on an elbow to see her daughter better. "If you tell us, sweetie, then it won't be scary anymore."

"It was a monster," Ella whispers. "A big one. Can I sleep here?"

Even before they answer, Ella is already starting to clamber onto the big bed, secure in the knowledge that her parents will embrace her presence. Addison both admires this confidence and is deeply grateful for it - it's exactly what she longed for in childhood, it's precisely what she never felt and it's everything she determined to instill in her own daughter.

Mark hoists her the rest of the way onto the bed. "Monsters aren't real," he says soothingly, "and neither are bad dreams." He settles Ella between him and Addison, who can't resist planting a kiss on one soft cheek as she smoothes back sleep-tangled hair. Ella's gotten much better at staying in her own bed, but Addison would be lying if she didn't admit she would miss this one day - all of them cuddled close under the comforter Ella will eventually kick off completely. Addison has always loved to watch her daughter sleep. And if she's very lucky...

"Mommy, my tooth," Ella murmurs, interrupting Addison's thoughts as she turns into her, snuggling close. "It's looser."

"It is?"

"See?" Ella tips her head back and Addison runs her thumb lightly under her daughter's front tooth, tracing the familiar gap.

"It's a little looser," Addison says encouragingly, shaking her head very slightly at Mark when he gives her a quizzical look over Ella's head.

"Will the tooth fairy come?"

"Yes. When it falls out."

"What if -"

"It has to _fall_ out," Mark says quickly. "No funny business." He pokes Ella gently in the side and she giggles.

Addison strokes her hair. "Close your eyes, Ella. It's late. Only good dreams now, okay?"

"Only good dreams," Ella repeats sleepily.

"That goes for everyone," Mark adds, wrapping an arm securely around both of them, his voice slightly muffled by his pillow. Ella's long hair is tumbled over both their pillows, soft and sweet-smelling, and in minutes she's breathing deeply, fast asleep between her parents. Mark's long, regular inhales follow, but Addison hesitates, committing to memory every sensation she can, before letting her eyes drift shut.

Choices, after all, aren't right or wrong. They just _are_, and then they add up, one after the other. One choice can be a change. Two choices can be a future. Three choices, strung together, can be a family.

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><p><strong>Title from Margaret Atwood's <em>Variations on the Word Sleep.<em>**


End file.
